


The Things We Do

by castielsfeathers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Human Castiel, Human Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Love, M/M, Mark of Cain, Romance, SPN - Freeform, Sicfic, Stripped grace, angel - Freeform, sick, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 03:31:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsfeathers/pseuds/castielsfeathers
Summary: A very sick Castiel and a concerned Dean





	The Things We Do

This was the third night in a row Castiel woke up in a cold sweat, limbs aching as he felt like he was nailed to his bed. However this time, the form in the corner of the room jolted awake, maneuvering in the dark to the angel’s bedside.

“Cas, you need to tell me what’s going on or so help me I will get the angels involved.”

Dean meant it too. It had been weeks since Castiel began acting strange. Well, strange for Cas. He had been out on his own for awhile before simply showing up at the bunker, moving himself in with hardly an explanation while the brothers just watched in confusion. Then as the days went on, they began catching him going about with odd functions. Sam caught him coming out the shower- which traumatized Sam for a day- and Dean caught him hiding while eating. Now Dean was watching over him while he slept. Whenever they asked him what was going on, his excuse was he missed those things from when he was human.

That is until he seemed to be getting sick these past few days.

As if to prove this, Castiel began coughing as he tried to argue against the angels being involved.

“No, Dean. They’ll kill me. They’ll kill Sam trying to get to you.”

It was the mark. The angels wanted Dean dead. But if the mark wouldn’t let him die then they would kill Sam to get Dean to surrender to their imprisonment. Hearing this threat, Dean felt the blood begin to boil in his arm and reached to rub the feeling away. 

“Then tell me what is going on. You’re showering, sleeping, and eating. Now it looks like you’re sick.” 

Heaving a sigh, Castiel looked at the shadow by his bed. It was so dark, he couldn’t see Dean. He just wished he could see Dean. This feeling in his head and his chest, it wasn’t like anything he knew before. It was like a raging storm, coursing through all he was and destroying everything in its path. Then the feeling intensified, and he leaned over the bed and vomited into his waste basket. This was all so overwhelming, so confusing. The amount of times he had seen the brothers throw up their guts from hangovers and illnesses were too many to count, but he had never had it happen himself. 

“What’s wrong with me...” he muttered this as he leaned back, his bedside lamp switching on by the other’s doing.

“You’re sick Cas, and I need to know how this happened.” Maybe there was a hex bag. After motioning for the angel to wipe his mouth off, Dean began to rummage around the room. 

“There’s no hex bag, Dean.” Castiel watched him continue to root through his room anyway; had he felt better he would have smiled in amusement at this. Dean, always so stubborn and careful. Castiel knew the other just didn’t want anymore weight on him then there was already. 

Dean finally stopped after he was satisfied he checked everywhere there could be one, including carefully patting down the sweat-soaked angel. Then he filled a glass of water at the sink, handing it to Castiel. 

“I know you want the taste out of your mouth.” 

Reluctantly, Castiel took the glass in his slightly shaky hands and sipped at it. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, just tell me what’s going on, I don’t want to ask again.”

Sighing, Castiel set the glass aside and turned to look at the wall as he spoke.

“I stripped out my grace.”

Taken aback, Dean recoiled as he processed this.

“You...what?!”

The mark pulsed and throbbed, and Dean didn’t try to rub it away. How stupid and selfish this was! When they needed Castiel’s help the most, he goes and benches himself?

“What were you thinking! We need you, Cas. Did you do this just because you missed the taste of food?”

Dean vividly remembered Castiel complaining about food tasting disgusting as an angel. How he could taste every molecule. Was this his reason? Because if so he was going to-

“Dean...”

This small whisper, it was something so quiet in contrast to Castiel’s usual tone. It stopped Dean in his tracks, as he realized he was seeing red and was gripping the collar of the other’s shirt. Horror flooded through him, Sam was right. He was getting worse. After letting go, Dean gently patted the shirt back into place before sitting on the edge of the bed. He was careful not to jostle it, the last thing he needed was to make the other vomit again. 

“Why did you do that?” His tone wasn’t any softer, but the mark was more or less under control again. He wouldn’t hurt his friend, he couldn’t. Castiel had done so much for him and Sam, he deserved a chance to explain before Dean went psycho. 

Castiel looked back at the wall before beginning to cough out his explanation.

“You and Sam are mortal. I will have to watch while you two grow old and perish. I can’t do that Dean, not with you. I stripped out my grace so that I may grow old and die along with you.”

Castiel said the last bit so innocently, Dean found it hard to remain angry with him; as much as the mark wanted him to. He really just couldn’t believe the other’s reasoning. Even as an angel Castiel felt so much that he didn’t want to watch him die? What really was so special about him that Castiel couldn’t keep going easily? 

“Where is your grace?”

“Safe. It’s in this room-“ Coughing again, Castiel gave up on finishing his sentence. 

Picking up the water glass, Dean handed it back to Castiel to ease the coughing. 

“With this life, I will die before I’m old Cas.”

“Then I will. I’m in this life with you.”

“You need to take your grace back, I can’t lose you.” Dean ran a hand over his chin, his palm tingling with the sensation of the bit of growth. He had been so wrapped up with Castiel he hadn’t been taking care of himself. 

“And I’m supposed to let myself watch you die just to live myself for centuries after?” Castiel sounded close to offended at this. Was his fondness over Dean really so hard for him to grasp?

At this Dean fell silent, the torment so clear in the other’s voice. This was his best friend besides his brother, and he could almost feel the emotion that dripped from his usually steady voice. And when he looked at the angel and saw rare tears falling, tears he had never seen come from the other before, he wished there was a way to make this right. Some instant answer that would be a win for all of them. But even with these things said, Castiel had to take back his grace, didn’t he?

“Why do I get to live, while you and Sam are faced every day with death?” 

Glancing behind him to be sure the door was closed, Dean inched closer; gently pulling the angel into his arms. 

“We all have our burdens. This is yours. Besides, the mark won’t let me die.”

“It will turn you into a demon, and then I will have no choice but to smite you. Perhaps even while Sam watches.” 

Dean set his chin on top of the other’s head; Castiel grasping at his shirt. He remained silent. Castiel had all good points, but how would he and Sam manage without their guardian angel at full power? He supposed they had done just fine before, and would continue to do so. Now with Castiel human, hardly having the human experience with hunting that he and Sam had, Dean could very well have to watch Castiel die. Knowing he let the angel continue without his grace. And that would be just another cross he would have to carry, because this so seemingly small, tearful thing in his arms wasn’t being forced to take his grace back. 

“If you’re going to continue human, then you have to be sick like a human.”

Castiel glanced up at Dean, confused.

“But I am sick like a human.”

“Not yet.” 

Before Castiel could protest, Dean had carefully scooped him up with a grunt. Castiel was heavier then he looked, but he would manage. Then he carried Castiel to his bedroom where he had finally set up a tv; thanks to Sam’s nagging that it would be calming on nights the mark wouldn’t let him sleep. He set Castiel down on his bed and turned the tv on quietly. 

“Hang tight.”

Hearing this, Castiel gripped at the bed covers as tight as he could in his weakened state.

“No, Cas not-“ Cutting himself off, Dean sighed and left the room. When he came back, he had brought a blanket and a pillow and tossed them in the corner. He had no intention of sleeping, but he was trying to make Castiel think he would sleep. How could Dean sleep when it was time for him to be the guardian angel? Dean cupped his hands over Castiel’s, gently breaking his grip on the bed covers. Then he dragged the end down from his pillows and draped it over Castiel’s shoulders. After this he sat beside Castiel on the bed, an arm wrapped loosely behind his back. 

Tentatively, Castiel leaned his head against Dean’s shoulder. He had seen Sam do it once or twice, and he could feel the comfort the brothers shared during that moment. This was his desperate reach to feel that comfort himself, to know it was okay that he stripped himself of his grace. 

The weight on his shoulder surprised Dean, and he wrapped his arm a little tighter around his angel. He saw the crude line on the other’s throat, where he had taken his grace from himself, and he gently traced the line with his finger. How had he not noticed this line sooner? He willed the droplets building up in his eyes to stay put, that Castiel would be alright. He had to be, Dean couldn’t take another death on his hands. This would be his fault, for he was allowing this. 

This comfort Castiel finally felt, it wasn’t like what he had wrongly labeled as feelings of comfort before. And the trace on his neck, it made him feel a way he didn’t quite understand, he never fully did. He could only relate it to how he felt watching the pizza man. 

“Dean-“

Dean cut off the angel, this feeling mutual. His lips connected with the other’s, a kiss filled with more passion and feeling then any other before. This was going to get him sick too, but this was far from his mind. Every little thing clouded this, the soft lips of the other he had been dying to kiss longer then he would ever admit. The warmth of their breath mingling and caressing each other’s faces. The way Castiel simply melted into his arms, as cliché as it sounded it was all angelic magic. Gently taking Castiel with him, Dean settled down in the bed. It wasn’t long before the feverish angel fell asleep with his face buried in Dean’s chest. This, this was the proper way to be a guardian angel. A loving grip that wouldn’t break for their few years left to come.


End file.
